#SOL18 3-11-18 Sliding Glass Doors

I had lunch with my friend Saturday. We missed seeing each other last weekend and my life felt incomplete. Of course we had lots to talk about. One thing on my agenda, I came mentally prepared to hand over my copy of a new book that I shared for #classroombookaday Friday. But since I didn’t actually have the book with me, I’m pretty sure I was secretly hoping that she would talk me down.

The day before, I had gone to school super excited to share the beautiful, new multi-award winning picture book, Crown: An Ode to the Fresh Cut by Derrick D. Barnes and Gordon C. James, with my students, but it didn’t go as I had hoped.

Before reading the book I reminded my students of the ALA awards it had won (Caldecott, Newbery, AND Coretta Scott King Honors) and I shared a little of what I’d learned about the illustrations on a podcast. But when I actually read it aloud, the reaction of some students made me uncomfortable. There was giggling. Someone pointed out the man with the locs, “His hair...” (Raised eyebrows). “Yes,” I responded, “he has dreadlocks.” They pointed out a man with a do-rag. I explained a do-rag is sometimes fashion, sometimes to protect a hairstyle. I talked about how this barbershop might feel unfamiliar to us. I related it to the couple of times over the years when my husband has needed to come find me at my hair salon, describing how he looked around, eyes wide, wondering what it was exactly that was going on with all of that foil. Whatever I added didn’t feel adequate. I couldn’t come up with the right words. I avoided looking at my African-American students. I was afraid by not responding well, I was making things worse.

A sentence from this 2017 Harvard Graduate School of Education article summarizes my reality: “The reality is that many neighborhoods and schools in suburban and rural America are not diverse and are largely white. Students may not see many people who look different from them. Conversations about race can feel personally irrelevant, and therefore obligatory and rote. And teachers may feel stymied, worried about finding the right words.”

My families are predominantly white and always have been...predominantly, but not exclusively. I have bicultural students in my class. I raised my son in the same neighborhood and as the parent of a bicultural child it really bugged me when teachers would lament, “We have no diversity.” I would object, and they would say, “You know what I mean.”

What I think they meant is that diversity is diluted in our neighborhood. We have some variance in skin color, but the culture we see in the neighborhood? It’s all white.

Crown reflects deep culture, day-to-day subtle interactions not familiar to most of my students--or to me--at this point in our lives. It is a sliding glass door. I have never been in a barber shop like is depicted in Crown, yet I appreciate the community that exists there better for having read this beautiful book. I see the power and the important role the subtle, interpersonal relationships could play in a young boy’s life.

In order to move forward as a society, I believe we need to know more about each other. To appreciate diversity, not just tolerate it. So I intentionally bring a lot of diverse books into my classroom through my classroom library, read alouds, and #classroombookaday. My students are typically very receptive to diverse books, yet I went to lunch yesterday prepared hand over Crown to my friend, knowing her students would have more schema for it than mine do.

Mirrors, Windows, and Siding Glass Doors, the idea originated by Dr. Rudine Sims Bishop, was a resonant theme at our favorite conference last year. Someone said, “When White kids see White characters all the time, they get a distorted view of reality. White kids are overwhelmingly seeing “mirrors” but not “windows,” and that’s a huge problem.”** I know that if most of the books I share have only white characters, it further entrenches the existing order. It sends the message that white is normal, anything else is “other.” Sharing diverse books gives kids--and adults like me--windows on experiences they may not have had in the real world yet. It shows the shared humanity, that despite differences, we share a lot that connects us. It develops an appreciation for the rich fabric of our diverse national identity. I walked away from the conference more determined than ever to diversify my classroom library and my read alouds.

I know all of this. But it didn’t go as I had hoped Friday. Thank goodness I have my friend. She listened and calmly replied, “It’s an entry point.” We have to slide that door open at some point, even if it’s awkward. How can we hope to appreciate our differences if we avoid what is uncomfortable? If we’re not willing to walk through the sliding glass door and become familiar with the landscape? Crown is an entry point.

**These sentences resonated with me at the conference. I searched for and found them again in a tribute to Dr. Rudine Sims Bishop on the blog “Reading While White.”